Yesterday was rather tiring: in the morning I made soup and watched Casualty; then we hoofed it to Elms Rd (rather a long hoof) for the CND Garden Party. Mark was reluctant to go at first because of the possibility of an ‘Ah, Mark!’ scenario * but I convinced him that things had moved on since the ‘Ah, Mark!’ days and so off we trotted. I was quite tired and grumpy by the time we got there but revived under the influence of squash (no herbal tea!) cake, wine and folk music. Jan was there, as were all the CND folk and we got a very moving run-down of how Lucy’s funeral had been the day before. It sounded perfect – insofar as a funeral can ever be perfect…

There are lots of people I only ever seem to see at the CND garden party, so that I have a rather Proustian view of these people who are always a year older than the last time I saw them. But then, they’re probably thinking the same about me…

And so to Yesim’s, where a large crowd gathered and I played Leonard Cohen’s ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’ as well as doing this poem about autumn:

September Sun

There’s something sad about September sun

like love that’s missed its high heroic chance

remembering how wet that summer was…

Kirk out

*he always used to get roped in to help, and was usually greeted with the words ‘Ah, Mark!’